Perfect Family
by whereistheark
Summary: "He stared the picture-perfect house down; its stucco finish, neatly trimmed bushes and gleaming windows beckoning him closer. It may look picture-perfect on the outside, but it may have as well been called the definition of hell to Dipper on the inside." Rated T for abuse, alcohol use, violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys. My second Gravity Falls fanfiction here. I hope you like the start of this one. **

**WARNINGS! READ!: TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR!: ****\- abuse, alcohol use, violence, language, future (light) sexual content. That's all I can think of right now, but there are the warnings.**

**I hope you guys like so far, please leave a review, it helps me continue with the story! I'm taking a light break from "Dissociate" because I'm a little stuck on it, but it shall resume soon, so no worries. **

* * *

The sound of Converse sneakers hitting linoleum flooring resounded through the busy halls of WoodWorth High School. "'Scuse me! Getting through here!" yelled a lanky male, pushing past the numerous students flooding the area. He huffed tiredly, trying to catch his breath as he rounded a corner, his shoes squeaking furiously. He expertly dodged past incoming students, mumbling apologizes. Every so often he would glance over his shoulder, stealing looks at the three young men chasing him.

"PINES!" yelled one of the pursuers, anger in his voice. "GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!"

"Fuck…" Dipper cursed under his breath, his legs cramping. His eyes widened in relief as he saw the men's bathroom, darting inside, hoping his pursuers hadn't noticed. He finally caught his breath, leaning over with his hands on his knees, at the edge of gagging. Sweat rolled down Dipper's forehead, his brown hair stuck to the sides of his face. "Jesus fuck, they never let down…" Dipper coughed. He was left alone in the bathroom, the sound of dripping water _plip plopping _into the sinks. The door swung open, banging against the wall behind it harshly. Dipper rolled his eyes. _Guess not. _He thought. The sound of three pairs of boots clicked on the tiled floors, following in one after another.

"Hey, Pines." A gruff voice bounced off of the walls of the small restroom.

Dipper slowly got up, air back in his lungs at last. He spun around, ready for whatever these bullies had for him today. "Hey, man." He replied, a cheesy grin on his face. He quickly surveyed his attackers. _Davie, John and Mike. All upperclassmen. Davie's the leader. The other two are just followers. _Dipper recognized.

Davie was the stereotypical jock; the school colors of brown and red shown proudly on his hundred dollar varsity jacket, along with many patches and pins. His short black hair was greased to the max, and this guy was over the top buff.

John was just about as lanky as Dipper, but followed behind Davie like a lost puppy, at his every beck and call. His messy blond hair reached his shoulders, barely covering his eyes.

Mike had the kind of face that screamed, 'Hey! Punch me!', according to Dipper. He reeked like a gallon of body spray and raging teenage hormones, but somehow he had girls head over heels for him. Mike's slick brown hair and sideburns reminded Dipper of Wolverine; he expected him to grow sharp knives out of his knuckles at any minute.

"Don't give me that 'hey, man' bullshit, Pines. I aint dealing with that shit today." Davie snapped, cracking his knuckles.

Dipper shrugged. _Might as well not fight it. I've lived through a year of it already and I can live through this one too. _Dipper thought, trying to see the light of the situation. _Sophomore year sucks so far. And I've got seven more months of this torture. _"Alright, Davie. I've got class to go to next, so just… let's get this over with. Lay it on me." Dipper sighed, leaning against a stall door, bracing himself for the oncoming punishment.

"You think you're funny…?" Davie grunted. "Because I'm not laughing." He grabbed Dipper by the front of his shirt, throwing him against the opposite wall. The air was knocked out of Dipper's lungs, leaving him to groan in response. He slid down the wall, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted. Davie motioned his friends over. "Hey guys, Pines thinks he's funny. Give him something to laugh about." He backed out of the way to let the others do his dirty work, smirking from behind John and Mike. Dipper was kicked in the gut by Mike, which left him writhing on the floor in pain. The two continued to kick Dipper while he was down, leaving him trembling in a ball. Davie held up a hand to signal the two to stop. "Alright, guys. Let's get out of here. I think Pines has had enough for today." He chuckled slightly. "We had fun. See you tomorrow, Pines." And with that, the three assailants left.

It took several minutes for Dipper to get up as he gasped and squirmed in pain on the dirty bathroom floor, his sides and gut sore. He stumbled out of the bathroom, feeling defeated. He roamed the quiet empty halls. Classes were over for the day. Dipper lifted up the sleeve of his blue varsity jacket and glanced at his watch, the digital timestamp showing '3:32 PM'. "Fuck, the next bus will be here in five minutes. I missed the first one. I can make it out in time for this one." Dipper cursed under his breath, making his way down the hall and pushing open the double doors to the outside world. The bright California sun blinded him, causing him to shield his eyes with his hand, squinting. He trudged to the bus stop, mingling with the other students. Dipper stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, humming to himself.

The bus rolled up to the stop, coming to a halt and letting off hot steam with a screech. Dipper was pushed and shoved for a spot to be first on the bus, grunting in pain with every elbow that made contact with his bruised sides. Dipper settled for last in line, making his way to the only available seat, numerous eyes staring at him as he sat down. Dipper stuffed his earbuds in his ears and pushed play on his music device, turning up the volume over the loud kids on the bus. He zoned out until the bus rolled up to his house, and Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat. _Home. _

Dipper got up from his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the walkway, the eyes staring him down once more before he hopped off. The bus rolled on to the next destination, leaving Dipper behind in a cloud of rank diesel fuel. Dipper felt as if he was rooted to his spot on the sidewalk. He stared the picture-perfect house down; its stucco finish, neatly trimmed bushes and gleaming windows beckoning him closer. It may look picture-perfect on the outside, but it may have as well been called the definition of hell to Dipper on the inside.

Dipper swallowed his fear as he took a step closer to the house, and another. Soon he was at the door, fishing out a key from his pants pocket. He shoved the key into the lock, turning it and hearing a click, opening the door with a creak. He shut the door quietly, slipping off his shoes and placing them with the others by the door, neatly in a line, organized by family member. _No one seems to be home yet._ Dipper made his way upstairs, opening the door to his bedroom and going in, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He slid down the door, closing his eyes and smiling slightly in relief. Dipper took a few more moments to relax, before hopping up carefully, keeping his bruises in mind. "Finally, finally, finally…" Dipper huffed, rummaging through a locked box under his bed. He sifted through it before pulling out a flask, unscrewing it with shaking hands and taking a large gulp, liquid dribbling down his chin.

Dipper sucked down the remainder of the flask's contents, the strong liquor burning his throat. He gripped the container tightly in his hand, scooting to the nearest wall, leaning against it and closing his eyes. The pain in his gut and sides started ebbing away, but Dipper knew it wouldn't last long. He fumbled with his phone, jamming his headphones into the port and succeeding after several tries, lazily shoving the earbuds into his ears, pressing play and resuming the music he was listening to earlier. The music played loudly; Dipper sitting in a dazed stupor, oblivious to his surroundings. Drunk. Hazy.

The blaring music drowned out the soft knocking on Dipper's bedroom door, evenly spaced and gentle. "Brother, brother." Came a quiet, cheerful voice. Dipper continued to stare off into oblivion. "It's your sister, Dipper! Open, open!" Mabel called, a little louder this time. She waited patiently for the door to open, no footsteps sounding from behind the closed door or shuffling. Mabel shrugged, holding a key in her hand, inserting it into the lock and turning the doorknob. She opened the door to Dipper's room, walking in and shutting it behind her, smiling brightly. "Oh, dear brother. Are you acting silly again?" Mabel asked, blinking at Dipper who was sitting against the wall, clutching the empty flask in his hand. Mabel skipped up to him, plucking the earbuds out of his ears. Dipper looked slowly up at his sister, a blank expression on his face. Mabel's eyes trailed to the flask. "That's brother's Silly Drink." She frowned.

"Fuck off, Mabel." Dipper mumbled incoherently. Mabel smiled and shrugged, skipping to the door and opening it to go back to her own room, leaving Dipper alone with the door slightly ajar. Dipper sighed, unable to get up and close it himself.

"And you go here!" Mabel giggled, admiring her large house of dolls, identical to her own family. The dollhouse was a bright pastel pink, white trimming with four large rooms and an attic. She had made it herself, rather proud of it, finishing it in a matter of days. She had made all of the dolls herself, crafting them to perfection with the likelihood of her family. Mabel grabbed a rag doll that had the striking resemblance of Dipper, patting the brown, stringy yarn hair. "It's alright, brother. I know you need the Silly Drink because of Daddy. He's meaner to you than he is to me." A look of sadness fell on Mabel's face but disappeared as soon as it had come. "But in here, in my perfect house, you don't need it. Daddy and Mommy are nice, they love each other and they love us. They don't hurt us." She grinned as she picked up the ragdolls of her parents, making them kiss. "See? They love each other. We are all happy. We have smiles." She poked each of the dolls' faces in turn, indicating the painted on grins. Mabel's smile fell as she heard the front door slam downstairs, shaking the house and making the toy figures rattle on Mabel's shelves.

"God DAMNIT!" yelled an angry male voice, resounding through the house.

Dipper blinked, recognizing the voice through his haze. _Dad. _He thought bitterly. The slamming downstairs continued. Dipper closed his eyes as he heard loud footsteps stomping up the stairs. _Here we go. _

Dipper's door was kicked open, the wood meeting the wall behind it, splintering slightly. "GABRIEL SCOTT PINES!" Dipper's father bellowed and Dipper flinched at the mention of his full name. He stood in the threshold, his face red with rage. "Ditching class again?! Are you fucking _drunk, _AGAIN?!" Dipper's father yelled, eyeing the flask and Dipper's mannerisms indicating that the young, seventeen year old teen was intoxicated. Dipper gathered the strength to shrug, a look of indifference on his face. His father looked at him in disgust before quickly walking up to him, grabbing Dipper by the back of his jacket and lifting him up, pinning him to the wall.

Mabel hummed as she played with her dolls, blocking out the commotion in the room next door. A large bang rattled a shelf on the wall, causing a stuffed elephant to topple over and onto the floor. "Dipper is okay. Father is just mad again." Mabel nodded to herself, smoothing out her frilly pink dress. She straightened out the laced white bow in her hair, twirling a finger in her long, wavy brown locks. The walls of her room swallowed the shouting and banging next door. Muffled, incoherent responses from Dipper went unanswered by his father. Only angry shouting from one party pursued, shutting the young boy up. A door slammed, footsteps rushing downstairs and out the front door from where they came.

Dipper writhed on the floor of his bedroom, clutching his stomach in agony. He crawled over to the nearest trashcan in his room and hurled into it, shaking. "F-fuck…" he gulped for air, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, the sick taste of alcohol and vomit burning in his throat. _I just want to sleep before he comes back again… _Dipper thought, his stomach churning, warning him for a second emptying. The room spun as Dipper rolled himself onto his back, coughing, his sides and gut aching badly, the pain excruciating. He didn't even want to look at how bad the bruises were now; and now that his father had finished the job he was sure it was much worse. Dipper didn't even want to _think _about going to school tomorrow. He knew he would have a massive hangover, have to deal with Davie and his followers again, and then come home. _A constant cycle of torment. _Dipper thought darkly. Day after day, it was always the same. The school was so oblivious that he could even get away with being drunk in class. _They never paid any attention. They never care. _

_I'm Dipper Pines. And this is my life._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Back with chapter two. Hope you all like it, and this story so far. Having fun writing it. Please review if you liked, it helps me continue the story! Thanks for the support!**

* * *

Ch 2

"Pines. Pines!" the name fell on deaf ears, words seemingly garbled and far away to Dipper. The young teen sat at his desk, face buried into his arms. Saliva dribbled onto the desktop. Students giggled quietly, some hushing others. The snickering grew louder when the teacher removed himself from his desk at the front of the room, yardstick in hand. He brought it down in front of Dipper with a hard crack, startling him out of his doze. The class roared with laughter.

"Fuck!" Dipper shouted, jolting up quickly, eyes wide. His eyes drifted up slowly to the teacher before him, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I-I… Oh, h-hey, Mr. Walls." Dipper stuttered, forcing a small, nonchalant smile. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Mr. Walls did not look impressed.

Dipper _despised_ Mr. Walls. Better yet, despised was an understatement. The man was as tall and thin as they came; pasty white and sickly looking. He wore the majority of non-dress code material which included a white button-up shirt and black tie to accompany, rolled up to his elbows and jeans with holes in the knees. His arms were covered in tattoos, faded and wobbly-lined as if they were drunken teenage mistakes. As if _that_ wasn't enough to get the school staff on his tail, Mr. Walls had grown out a beard, his long unkempt hair reaching to his shoulders. Dipper could have sworn it was the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Dipper was placed in advanced classes, plopping him right in the middle of upperclassmen like a piece of fresh meat. Juniors but mostly seniors resided in Dipper's current class, making him feel small and out of place. He was the only sophomore student there. Mr. Walls took advantage of this. "Sleeping in my class, Mr. Pines?" Mr. Walls sighed, his eyes half open. He leaned on the yardstick, staring Dipper down like he had just slaughtered a man. Dipper hoped the yardstick would snap from underneath him. Dipper wiped away the saliva that had trailed down his chin. His throat was dry as he felt every one of the students' eyes in the room fixated on him, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. It was so quiet; a pin could be heard dropping.

"No sir." Dipper whispered quietly, shifting his eyes away from his instructor. "I was just, um…"

"Speak up, Pines!" Mr. Walls snapped loudly, anger in his voice, causing the young teen to jump. Dipper shut his eyes, his breathing shaky.

"Sorry, sir. I was sleeping in your class. I apologize." Dipper admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. _Just get this over with. Send me away or continue the class. I can't take this unneeded attention any longer. _

"Thank you. That's what I needed to hear." Mr. Walls spun around, making his way back to his desk at the front of the room. "I expect more from you, Mr. Pines. You are very brilliant; sleeping in my class will get you nowhere. You've handed in exceptional work and I expect you to continue." He continued loudly, flipping through the teacher's copy of the Advanced English textbook.

_Just fucking shut up, damn it. _Dipper groaned inwardly, annoyance pricking at him. The giggling among the students subsided and class resumed. Dipper sighed quietly, relieved. He took a quick survey of the room before slipping a hand into the pocket hidden inside of his favorite blue varsity jacket. A shaky hand brought out a small metal flask, his fingers unscrewing the cap with some difficulty. He prayed to whatever god was up there that he wasn't seen and that his trembling hands didn't drop his concealed alcohol. His eyes darted to the front of the room; Mr. Walls lecturing loudly and droning on about correct grammar. Dipper felt nervous sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, trying his best to ignore it. He snuck a quick gulp, his hand trembling severely. He took a few more when he was sure that not a soul was looking.

"…Like Mr. Pines here, with his rather _excellent _paper on The Black Plague. It was _very_ well done with perfect grammar and punctuation, citation and bibliography. One of the best essays I've seen in months." Dipper jumped with the mention of his name, stuffing the open flask in his jacket, his whole body trembling. The strong smelling liquid sloshed inside of the canister, some splashing to the floor. Dipper's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he swallowed his fear. Mr. Walls motioned to Dipper, all eyes on him once again. Dipper trembled greatly.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck… Jesus fucking Christ… god, why do you do this to me, I thought we had a deal—_

"You could all learn from Mr. Pines." Mr. Walls smiled, setting his eyes on the mentioned young boy. Dipper immediately felt sick to his stomach. He felt as if he was going to hurl.

"C-could…" Dipper started, standing up quickly, his knees feeling like they were going to give out on him. "Could you not use me as an example…" he mumbled quietly.

"Mr. Pines?" Mr. Walls started, an eyebrow raised. Concern laced his voice as he gazed at Dipper. "Something the matter? I was just giving an example-"

"Well, don't fucking do that! Can't you see it makes me uncomfortable?!" Dipper cut in, his hands balled into fists. He then wrapped his arms around his body and trembled. "I… I need to leave." Dipper mumbled, grabbing his bag and rushing out of the classroom. The eyes followed him as he left. Dipper stood next to the open door of the classroom, taking shaky, deep breaths to calm himself. The school halls were empty, excluding the few students roaming about with hall passes. Dipper quickly screwed the flask's cap back on with trembling hands, making sure it was tight and secure. He smelled like strong whiskey, wet splotches on his jacket where the liquid had splashed out. Dipper sighed deeply. He jumped when he heard Mr. Walls walk up to him from behind, his footsteps reverberating around the empty halls. He shut the classroom door to give the two some privacy. Dipper shoved the flask back in his jacket, holding his hand there.

"Gabriel, is something the matter?" Mr. Walls asked the young teen, genuine concern in his voice.

"S-sorry." Dipper choked out, praying that Mr. Walls didn't smell the strong whiskey on him. "I didn't mean t-to…" he trailed off.

"I know." Mr. Walls assured, nodding slowly. "Can I tell you something, Gabriel?" he asked, leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed. Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yes sir." Dipper nodded quickly, his eyes shifting away from his instructor.

"My father, through the duration of my childhood, was a heavy drinker. He would go out to the local bar every night to drink, and sometimes he would drink at home. And that was the worst. He would smash and break things when he did, which caused me to stay in my room and hide under my bed until he passed out on the floor." Mr. Walls explained softly, not looking at Dipper. Instead he looked across the way, admiring the long student-made poster that declared, 'Welcome to WoodWorth!' all in the school's colors with glitter and stars. "I vowed to never become like my father. I occupied myself with other things to dull the pain after he left my mother and I. Church. Sports. I wanted to help other children who fell victim to this kind of life. Did you know in my free time, I talk to children with abusive parents?" Mr. Walls finished, turning his head to look slowly at Dipper, who was nervously picking at the seams of his old, worn out blue jeans.

"I didn't know that." Dipper answered quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat once again. _Oh god, what is he implying—_

"I want to help you, Mr. Pines." Mr. Walls broke into Dipper's panicked thoughts. "I can smell the alcohol."

Dipper almost broke down crying. "Oh god, please don't tell anyone…" Dipper begged, his body beginning to tremble severely. "I swear I won't ever sneak it into your class again if we can just let this go and forget about it!" Dipper was almost in tears. "It's for the pain. I promise, it's for the pain!" he was about to lift up his shirt and show Mr. Walls his horrendously bruised sides and stomach in desperation. Mr. Walls stopped him, holding a hand up.

"No need to explain. I'll walk you down to the nurse's office." Mr. Walls comforted, putting a hand on Dipper's back to reassure him. "Come on."

The two made their way to the front of the school, down the winding hallways that Dipper frequently ran through from his bully pursuers. They passed the few students that roamed, not taking a second glance at them. Mr. Walls opened the door to the office, motioning Dipper inside. A woman noisily typed away on a computer at the desk, chewing and popping on bubblegum. "Can I help you two?" she asked rather starkly, blowing a bubble and popping it. She stopped typing on the computer and looked up, brushing thick blonde hair out of her face, Dipper noticing the longest red nails he'd ever seen on a person's fingers. Her makeup was just the definition of a train wreck to Dipper. "Ohh, Mr. Walls." she smiled, her gaze flicking from Dipper to the mentioned teacher. "What's up?"

"Gabriel here is in need of Mrs. Mella." Mr. Walls answered nicely, though Dipper could have sworn he was biting back annoyance.

"First door down the hall and it's going to be on your left." The office attendant answered, and then continued typing away on the computer. Mr. Walls nodded his thanks and led Dipper down the short hallway, several plaques hung on the wall along with photos of staff members belonging to the school. A sign hung on the mentioned door, stating 'Mrs. Mella; School Nurse. Just come on in!'. Mr. Walls opened the door, placing a hand on Dipper's shoulder and walking him inside. The door snapped shut, making Dipper jump slightly. The room smelled of disinfectants and throat spray. Dipper looked around nervously. Several posters hung sloppily on the walls; one showing a list of '101 Ways to Have Fun Without Having Sex!' and a 'Smoking Is Bad!' in bright colors. A rather plump, curly red-haired woman in her mid-thirties sat at a small desk with a laptop upon it, typing down recent students that had been in to see her. She swiveled around in her chair and looked Dipper up and down, a cheery grin spreading across her face.

"Hello there, dear! How can I help you today? And it's been a while, Mr. Walls, yes it has!" Dipper noticed the rather distinct southern accent in Mrs. Mella's voice.

Mr. Walls cleared his throat. "Good evening, Mrs. Mella. I have Gabriel Pines in here to see you today. He's been having some… troubles."

Mrs. Mella's smile dropped. "Can you tell me what's wrong, dear? You don't look so well, I see." She motioned Dipper to sit on the uncomfortable school nurse bed propped up against the far wall. He complied, sitting down nervously. The sterile paper underneath crinkled as Dipper made himself comfortable on the bed. Dipper looked at Mr. Wells, a mix of fear and uncertainty on his face. He may as well have been a sad puppy begging for food.

"Go on, tell her," Mr. Walls answered Dipper's silent pleas, nodding. "It's alright."

"I-I, uhm…" Dipper started quietly. "I have these really bad bruises on my sides and stomach." He finished, rubbing his arm in embarrassment. Mr. Walls nodded, willing Dipper to continue. "And I… have been drinking heavily to dull the pain." He finished, just barely above a whisper.

"Oh… dear…" Mrs. Mella fretted, looking at Dipper with immense worry. "May I see the bruises, my dear?" she asked, motioning for Dipper to lift up his shirt. Dipper obeyed, slipping off his jacket and setting it on the bed. He made sure the flask didn't fall out in turn. He then lifted his orange shirt, showing the school nurse his bruises. Mrs. Mella shook her head, her eyes closed. She looked as if she was trying to hold back tears. "Dear, can you tell me how you got these?" she asked after a few short, awkward moments. "And don't lie to me!" she added when Dipper opened his mouth to explain, a lie ready for her.

Dipper swallowed his fear. "It was just a run-in with a few kids. No big deal." He shrugged, passing it off as if it were nothing. He made a mental note to not mention what his father had done to him just the night before as well. He knew the school would stick their noses in his business if they found out anything about his home life.

"Here at the school?!" Mrs. Mella exclaimed, standing up. Dipper nodded slowly.

_Oh, god, please don't make a big deal out of this—_

"Can you tell me their names? I need to know, Gabriel. This needs to be reported right away!" Mrs. Mella snapped Dipper out of his thoughts.

Dipper shook his head. "No. It's too much trouble. I won't tell you."

"Gabriel!"

"I said no." Dipper stated firmly. He got up as he heard the bell ring for lunch, as if the universe was saving him from this predicament. He slipped on his jacket, the metal flask falling to the floor with a loud _TING_ and spinning for a few seconds before stopping at Dipper's feet. He sighed and closed his eyes. "May I go now?" he asked, pretending the flask hadn't just fallen onto the floor in front of him. He snatched it up quickly, hissing in pain from bending over, grabbing one of his bruised sides in discomfort. "Please let me go." He barely wheezed as he stood hunched over, stuffing the flask into his jacket pocket and squinting. Mrs. Mella and Mr. Walls exchanged looks.

"Meet me here after school." Mrs. Mella spoke slowly; making sure Dipper heard every word. It took a few moments before Dipper stood up fully, huffing as if he had just picked up a five-hundred pound weight. He nodded. "And not a minute late!"

Dipper left the nurse's office, Mr. Walls following close behind. "Get some lunch. And if you need to talk to me, my door is open after school until five. Don't hesitate to come in after hours, alright?" Mr. Walls assured, patting Dipper carefully on the shoulder as if he would break right in front of him.

Dipper nodded. "Thanks." He forced a small smile. The two split ways; Dipper making his way to the lunch hall and Mr. Walls back to his classroom.

Dipper felt emotionally drained. _Now to just get some lunch and two classes left and I'm done for the day. _He reminded himself. His heart dropped when he thought of returning home. _Home. But I have to return to the nurse after school. I hope she doesn't keep me too long. I have to catch the bus. _Dipper groaned inwardly. He entered through the threshold of the noisy and busy lunch hall, the aroma of pizza and fries filling the air. Dipper's stomach grumbled in response. He dug into his pants pocket, fishing out a few wrinkled up and folded dollar bills with a few coins in change. Dipper stood in line to get his lunch, rocking on his heels and humming to himself. He made it to the front of the line and grabbed his tray, a slice of pepperoni pizza dripping in grease and soggy French fries. _Lovely. _ Dipper noted with disdain. He sat down at a somewhat busy table, far away from the other students that occupied it. He poked at his food with a plastic fork, sighing heavily, his apatite declining.

Dipper shrugged after a few bites of his food, getting up and dumping his tray. The bell rang, signaling for the five minute warning to get to his next class. Dipper was shoved roughly out of the lunch room by rushing students hurrying to their next classes. Tears stung in Dipper's eyes as several hands and elbows met with his bruised sides. He caught his breath when he made it out of the throng of students, pain surging through his body. Dipper made his way to his locker, turning the lock and entering the three-digit combination. He opened the locker door, digging out what was needed for his next class, and slammed it shut.

"Hey, Pines." A familiar voice greeted Dipper, belonging only to—

_Davie. _

Dipper sighed heavily. "What do you want?" he asked quietly, staring at his closed locker.

Davie leaned against the red, beat-up locker next to Dipper's, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "I saw." He grunted.

"Uhh?" Dipper turned toward his visitor, genuine confusion in his voice.

"You snitched. John and Mike saw you running to the school office like a little girl. We saw Mr. Walls with you too." Davie narrowed his eyes, jabbing a finger into Dipper's chest. Dipper winced.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dipper tried to play it cool. "I was in class until the bell rang for lunch. That was someone else you saw with Mr. Walls."

"Pines, don't lie to me. Remember what happened last time…?" Davie warned. Dipper's mind flashed to the day before and he shuttered. The bell rang for the start of class, reverberating down the empty halls. Dipper started to walk off, only to be yanked back by the collar of his jacket. "I wasn't fucking done with you, dipshit, did you hear me?" Davie growled. Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat.

"It was about something else. It had nothing to do with what happened yesterday. I'm going to class." Dipper shoved Davie off of him, breaking into a full sprint down the hall, his sneakers squeaking in turn. When he was sure he was out of sight and Davie wasn't in pursuit after him, Dipper hunched over and took in long, ragged breaths. "Jesus fucking Christ…" he barely got out as he stood up, grabbing his sides in pain. Dipper made sure no one was looking as he chugged down the remainder of his alcohol, wiping away the evidence from his mouth. _This is the only way I can even stand going to the remainder of my classes. _


End file.
